Ivory to Steel
by Lionus
Summary: She traded silks for worn hides and leathers, swearing allegiance only to her valley and weathered gravestones that once promised the world at her feet.
1. Darkest Afore the Dawn

**Important A/N: **For the safety of readers, I want to assure everyone that while this is heavily based off the storyline of Daenerys and Drogo, it will be very different in the long run. Meaning, there will be no graphic depictions of violence or sexual assault. I like to keep things happy and healthy here. In this chapter there are brief mentions of execution, but nothing gory.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Fairy Tail or plot lines/themes from Game of Thrones.

* * *

War was an all encompassing word, no matter what lands someone hailed from or _who_ sat on their grandiose thrones. The word hung like death over the valley her parents had raised up- the tall wildflowers and wheat swayed unsurely, shivering straight through to their roots, and the clouds rolled in to block out the sun. Blue skies faded to gray and the earth lost its rich feeling and color as it slipped through her fingers. Even the almighty war lords and kings raised their heads in recognition of the thing that ruled over them all. It came like a bitter wind off the first dark month and stayed long after the vegetation grew green and tall once again. Unrest settled in her bones and sealed her chosen fate on that last Spring as the threat of war crested on the horizon of her territory, breathing itself into a physical thing no longer to be ignored. The sunrise broke over the hills and for a moment, everything was white- quiet and pure and untainted- but then the warm glow of the sun bled red and orange blotches tipped the edges of soft clouds. The earth was thawed and the days were at their longest, yet she shivered. While the gray skies relented to the change as they did each year, the red sunrise was brash and streaked sinisterly- _mockingly_.

She was the daughter of vast lands and intellect; she would marry whatever suitor there was with an army that could lead- _save_- her people through the times of bloodshed ahead. Her armies had logic and strategy, but lacked a consistent brute strength and the renegade decision-making that won wars in those dark times. While she had spent years in her father's library, memorizing the stories and breathing in the fantasies that promised her happiness and love and adventure, reality turned with the tide. Waves had beaten against her hopes, leaving her smooth and unyielding to change.

Her people were worth this much.

Silk ribbons and unsullied crinoline swished in her peripherals, dashing past the library and through the winding halls of the estate. Sunshine spilled through every open window and glittered teasingly in their soft curls as their tinkling laughter echoed sweetly. The daughters of her council and the future of her lands were those she would miss most. Their lessons were held in the estate at her behest, and so, they played during their breaks. The servants of the household weathered their chases and shrill laughter with the same patience they had afforded to her when she was young and her parents had been alive and life had been a great game.

She knew their names and their families and the trades that were passed down along their lines that kept the small settlement deep in the crook of her valley alive and thriving. Levy would set off into a land she did not know, did not love, and did not understand with her head held high. She was fearful, but this was the sole saving grace for their modest place in the country- one that hadn't seen the blackened scars of war in _centuries_. She hoped with all her heart for the battle to stay far from their territory; that should war truly break out, the hills would stay lush with peace and the water crisp and clear, singing along with the contentment of her people.

She couldn't- _would not_- bear to see the fields scorched and the rivers dyed red.

If she could not ensure their safety in an alliance, then she would be a disgrace to her lineage, a sign of disappointment and despair to her people. And _that_ was not an option. Never mind that she was reduced to helping her people by auctioning herself off to the strongest people and highest bidders; what mattered now was that her betrothed would approve, she would give him sons, and her home would be protected as promised.

Levy observed the front gate from her window in the library, the one with a ledge to recline in and lined with downy cushions. She pulled her knees to her and rested her head on the warmed glass of the window, watching almost detachedly as the golden dirt of the road was kicked up. It clouded the trail and her view until their rough and strong horses stood right before the door that crisp morning, her prayed-to-be betrothed leading them. She stood from her window, still dressed in bedclothes that breached her usual practical modesty, and recoiled behind the drapes when a man with a horrid scar caught her gaze. For the briefest of seconds, she wondered if he was their leader- from the assurance to broad shoulders to the formidable gait he used to approach the unfamiliar land he found himself in-, but then her eye caught the ratted braid that trailed over a painted shoulder and the way _everything_ moved in succession to _his_ voice.

_He_ was their leader, the roughest looking of the lot that waited on their horses. For the first time, she doubted herself. Her lineage was nothing in comparison; there were no thrones or limitless riches or beauty to add up to anything outstanding in worth. Her estate was heavenly to her, but plain to the rest of the warring world, and the only thing Levy had to offer was a _possibility_. A possibility that many a well-versed suitors- that she would have gladly married- passed over. She was slight of frame and there was no promise in the minimal sway to her hips. Not wide nor physically appealing, meaning bearing many children could be problematic, taking her and their children with the dangers, and a marriage bed would be boring and only meet what was obligated for consummation at best.

Intellect did not a desired wife make.

Not to mention the viscous tales of the _Kurogane's_ men taking women with the turn of every moon. She was sure to be nothing in comparison to the strong women that warmed their beds.

A soft knock on the door interrupted her thoughts, the hard set to her brow melting away at the soft face of the cook's assistant appearing from around the door. She curtsied and attempted a helpful smile for Levy. "Beg pardon, but the _Kurogane_ awaits, m'lady."

Levy's returning smile was slow and felt unpracticed; the decision had weighed on her mind for longer than anyone could say and it had its effect on her dwindling spirits. She closed her eyes and sighed, "So he does. Thank you, I shall be down in a moment."

Lady McGarden, her mother, had been a woman of strength and a fiery attitude that everyone said was passed along to her daughter. Levy remembered her smile, how she spoke soft, but sure, of her daughter's future. A thing to be happy about and anticipated, wrought with peace and _family_. She would grow and men of all the lands would hear of Levy's beauty, heart, and intellect. None of them would be worth her and sent back on their horses only after a meal to last them on the trip home. One day, a knight would happen along their estate, hungry and thirsty from some far off place. The household's staff would work him him back to health and the first dinner he would attend with the family, he would be absolutely taken with Levy and his favorite thing about her wouldn't be the estate or the valley or her parents, but her _smile_.

The image was laughable now.

A man riding in on his steed, wary and traipsing through their front gate just to fall in love with _her_. He would throw away sword and chain mail and renounce his loyalty to the far off kingdom with towers so high they disappeared into the sky for her hand. He would trade it all in for her modest home and valley, looking at her with complete adoration and love. The knight would become her husband and rule alongside her, rather than over her; they would spend many a year visiting the small settlement and reading her favorite books- that were coincidentally his favorites as well. Her mother had painted Levy a picturesque existence, perfectly contained and predictable like her storybooks.

She would be so lucky for a husband that _spoke_ to her, let alone loves her or is faithful.

Lady McGarden had passed when Levy was seven, leaving the young girl only with overly sweet happy endings. She imagined if her mother had lived, those stories would have evolved with her growing world. As she entered into adulthood, she would have taught her daughter to demand the respect she deserved; that while things don't always work out they way she wished, a child of the house McGarden made their riches with what they had. A McGarden would hold their head high and enter the proverbial battle grounds dressed in wit and spirit. But Lady McGarden was not there and Levy had had to make those changes to the stories on her own. A man was only a man- _Levy_ would hold the control of what power he had over her.

She would mourn the loss of a merrier life, but she would not let that overtake her fate. The _Kurogane_ was a man at the end of the day, the stark paint against his dark skin and menacing scowl wouldn't change that. The stories of his clan were gruesome, but Levy hadn't been a faint-of-heart in years.

War had changed her and, as she straightened her shoulders, she would make it for the better.

* * *

Her barbarous mind had quipped that he wasn't terrible to look at, rather handsome in his uncouth tradition. Metal and scars and the beginning traces of facial hair covered his face, so in contrast with the smooth and pale faces that had come and gone from her estate. Levy was given ample time to consider him, as he paid her no mind when she first entered the long forgotten war room, undoubtedly confusing her for a girl of the kitchens fetched by the council heads to appease him in any earthly need he had. Levy was used to this reaction, but she would demand his eyes look upon her; she raised her head- tilting it in just a way for the rising sun to catch in her modest, but shining circlet- and cleared her throat.

The man with raven braid that fell to his waist snapped his attention to the glittering jewels on her headpiece, then glanced over her coolly with eyes of molten heat. A string of dialect she did not know rolled off his tongue to the man on his right with even darker skin than his own. The _Kurogane_ nodded once in her direction and if she wasn't already aware that he did not speak her language, she would have been furious for lack of reverence he held for her .

Before Levy could think on the behavior further, the scarred man that sat on the right bowed his head to her and her council. "What does the lady ask for precisely, in exchange?"

Her eyebrows climbed to her hairline. "The _Kurogane_ does not waste his time with pleasantries- or the chance at least for a _lady_ to sit."

A spark of humor- acceptance, she later realized- flashed in the older man's eyes and a slow smile made its way to his weathered face. "Aye, it is time for our people to move once more and he does not like leaving them for long periods of time. Strong ties run from the leader to his people, moving and breathing as one. You will forgive the rudeness it is perceived as?"

Levy knew the power and play of words, they were her saving grace. A pleased air curled her mouth as she noted how the man did not apologize for what it _was_, but that she _viewed_ it wrongly. "Aye, we all have our customs and far be it from this table to fault a man of caring for his people."

He nodded, a slow and regarded ease in the motion rather than the clipped movement she was accustomed to. "Now, for your offer in excahnge?"

The fact that he had bypassed his own introduction- _any_ of their introductions- didn't go unnoticed by her. She knew not one name other than the frightened curse of the title _Kurogane_ and Levy could not dismiss the strange nagging at the back of her mind, an instinct that told her it was a game, a test. It didn't phase her, she knew- all too well- the rules of this sport.

An elder opened his mouth to respond, but she held her hand up. Levy arose on shaky knees and bowed her head, using the action to hide the nervous swallow. "Sir, we do not ask for money or servants," her voice cracked on the word. The _Kurogane's_ tribe had been plagued for years by others that took their people without question and _owned_ them. Levy breathed deeply through her nose and exhaled almost silently through her teeth. "I-I only wish to present myself in exchange-" she squared her shoulders and willed herself to remember her late lady mother. She may have been smaller than her petite mother, but she imitated the delicate and confident tilt to the woman's chin and pulled her shoulders back respectively. "-for the _Kurogane_ to form an alliance. War is just past the reach of our fingertips and I want my people to be protected."

"Aye, I will relay that, Lady McGarden."

Roguish words passed between the _Kurogane_ and his right hand, a snort of derision from the prior and another slew of uncouth sentences escaped the leader. The humiliating words familiar to her in any language.

_What could she possibly have that I would want or need?_

An act that would have her beheaded in the wrong company, she narrowed her eyes and all but spat, "A son. There hasn't been an infant death in a century, babes survive and grow in the McGarden line; together with that of your own peoples' lineage, a boy will be bred to make war lords _quake_ in their boots at the mere sight of him. If war should come, undoubtedly, the _Kurogane_ will be in want of an heir and a faithful mother to his child. I have no lovers or anyone seeking my hand nor are there any other living relatives to conquest the estate, so there will be no objections should he desire my offer."

Levy held her breath, she could control the gender of her child as much as the tide and the second part was true about a baby's survival, though it played heavily on superstitions- along the fact that the McGardens did not live in squalor and their crops were plentiful to suffice an infant's needs. The _Kurogane's_ tribe lived off the land as she did, but even closer to it, they inhabited tents and rode horses. Territory she was unfamiliar with in study and practice, she had no idea how safe it was to give life to such a fragile thing in those conditions. All Levy McGarden had was a bluff and slim hope that he was superstitious enough to believe her. If she bore a girl, she could only pray the man before her was merciful enough to love the child for being _his_ and allow her a chance to bear another if her body could withstand it.

Which was why there were no other children to the McGarden name. Her mother had had enough troubles with her and turned barren after an illness the winter following Levy's birth. She plotted for every outcome though; her father had raised her, in his short years with his daughter, to be cautious and thorough in this life. Should she bear a girl and present the _Kurogane_ with no other children, Levy would return to her estate with her baby and bring the child up in the ivory halls she loved so dearly- the only place she would truly regard as home. He would have an endless list of women waiting to bear his son and despite the scars that marred his face, he was young yet. A slew of boys could be produced before he was forty and she would be left to her own devices; a jest among his people and nothing to be remembered.

He surprised her though, as his right hand translated her promise. His murderous scowl stretched into something more recognizable- more handsome- but stopped before she could decipher whether it was a smirk or the beginnings of a sneer. No matter what it had about to become, she got her answer all the same, the _Kurogane_ met Levy's eye evenly and nodded once. Her heart and stomach raced for her throat, freezing her tongue against the roof of her mouth.

So, she returned his gesture.

Relief and worry warred within her. She couldn't count her winnings just yet, nothing was official and there was no son to be had at the present time. It was merely an acknowledgment that the _Kurogane_ liked something in her words and from what he had seen. Stories about his tribe were infamous; if she had been without his good graces, there was no doubt in Levy's mind that the people of the valley would find her head on a staff with her tongue cut out. Women and men had been through worse for less and it would be her first peek into the mercy the rugged man held- whether for her, for the love of one's people, or an heir, it didn't matter.

Levy would be sure to not soon forget it.

Aided by a sliver of assurance she had no idea she still had after her little speech, Levy gracefully lowered to her seat and signaled for a maid that had stood waiting in the corner of the room. "If our company agrees, you will see to it that their wishes are met?"

"Aye, m'lady." The young girl nodded once, nervously ticking her eyes to the large men and back to Levy. "Would you wish for anything else, Lady McGarden?"

Her eyes trailed to the right hand once more, his body was angled more to the Kurogane, but she knew when she was being watched without eyes being directly on her. "Aye, with their permission and instruction, I would like to ensure their horses are ready for the long ride home. Resupply their skins with the water from the spring outside the kitchen and some of the venison from the cellar."

"Yes, miss." The maid bowed, her head low, but the soft curve of a smile flashed for only Levy to see. _It had gone better than expected._

This time, it was the _Kurogane_ that moved first, standing from his seat with his men following closely behind. Levy cursed herself as she visibly startled at the movement, unused to the hard gaze and presence of him, but his right hand lowered his head to her, drawing her attention- and eye contact- away from the formidable leader.

"We must decline your offer of hospitality for the day, as you said, it is a long ride back and we must prepare to move our camp. If you would give us a fortnight to think on your offer?"

To say that she wasn't gleeful for no outright refusal would have been a sore misreading of her mood. The weight of a valley eased a little more off her shoulders and a small, but genuine smile finally graced her features. "O-Of course."

"But if it pleases you, we would happily accept your gracious offer to restock on our skins and be able to tend to our horses. If you will excuse us."

"Aye, I'll leave you to it. A safe journey to your party, as well."

The right-hand bowed deeply and her eyebrow raised, as the endearment was meant for those well above her station. "Aye, you have given us a great honor to think about and no decision will be met quickly to give you the respect of consideration."

Levy's tongue stuck to the roof her mouth with surprise as she slowly returned his bow, making it even with his own.

The _Kurogane_ scoffed and rolled his eyes, the gesture not lost on her as he made jest about the formal tone the darker skinned man used. The action was almost charming, a tiny glimpse as it was into the real relation he had with- what was no doubt- an old friend. He made for the door without a word and ticked his head respectively when a servant jumped to open the door for him. The doors closed behind their succession, the stable hand close at their heels chattering on about their animals and Levy blinked confusedly. She was sure it had been a tricking of the dawning sun, but for a moment, she thought she saw his eyes slide to her one last time as he turned away.

The dark skinned man she spoke to, the one scarred along his eye, nodded sagely to her advisors and dipped his head kindly to her one last time. The action found Levy wishing that, despite his obvious age over her, he was the man she was offered to. There was a steady patience and wisdom that softened his dark eyes, shining past the ragged skin over his left temple and cheek, and beckoned her to like him on that first meeting. But alas, he was the advisor- the right hand man, acting as the go-between for the two parties, until she learned their language.

Without another word, they left her parents' hall, trumping to the stables, mounting their stallions and merely riding off the way they came. Should the rough warrior of the East accept her proposal and alliance, Levy would be married to the dragon before the next new moon.

The widening crescent hung heavily in her morning sky.

* * *

**A/N: **This is a continuing story and while I have a good chunk of it written out (I started this story almost a year ago, if you can believe it), but I can't give any promises for quick updates. My work schedules pretty full these days, so I haven't had a lot of time to write. I appreciate the patience. This has become a fairly big project and I would appreciate some feedback- it gets the creativity going and will feed the fuel for updating chapters.

As aforementioned, this will be a loose interpretation. Gajeel and Levy are only _in_ Khal Drogo and Daenery's position, but they're still _them_.

Huge thank you to SilverInklett for listening to my ideas and the million times I said, "I need to work on GoT AU." She was a very patient and great beta for the story as well.


	2. Vision of the Sun in the End

**Warnings:** Minor description of (social) anxiety. While this chapter does contain the wedding and wedding night scene, there **will not** be any explicit or nonconsensual behavior.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Fairy Tail or the plots/themes inspired by GoT.

* * *

Gajeel, leader of these undefeated warriors, appeared even more harsh than the rumors made him out to be, especially within his own camp. Rough and unyielding and _large_ as he may be, Levy noticed him move like one of the great cats from the mountains- sure and steady; and always, _always_ at the last possible moment. Despite his obvious skill in battle and spar, there was a lazy roll to his shoulders and gesture of his arms that spoke of the game they played; not the age-old advice of strike before the enemy could.

She snorted derisively at the memory of an elder council member had whispered frightened words of the _Kurogane_ scalping his men for sport. No weapon at his side as he ducked the juvenile fist that soared for his cheek, laughing and roughly disheveling the child's wild hair once he glided back into his original spot closer to his opponent. There was a youthful charm that promised no injury but didn't undermine the possibilities in sinewy muscle. The rumors undercut this mountain of a man, there was a genuine grace and wit that flowed with every action he made.

Levy tilted her head and thought, this side of him was for his people and she was a stranger- of course he would be detached and blunt with someone not of his family. She hummed absentmindedly and cleared her throat to catch Lily's attention- the older man having been preoccupied with cheering on his tribe. "They do this often?"

A wide smile split his dark face when he turned to her, chuckling as a wave of hollers rose from the crowd before them. "Whenever spirit is up and they grow restless of one place."

"So, fairly often?," she asked wryly.

Lily's voice rumbled deep through his chest and set her further at ease. "Aye, we're an antsy lot." Levy had been surprised when Pantherlily spoke with her as if she were any man, but remained wary because, after all, if she said something that contradicted their world and he reported her behavior back to Gajeel, her valley would be in great trouble.

Gajeel's righthand sat beside her, explaining the intricate workings of their society between breaks to explain the game the tribe played. The others looked upon her differently, refusing to meet her eye, and no one spoke as softly with her as Lily did, and for that, she was eternally grateful. His baritone and patience soothed the dull ache for ivory halls and familiar hills- it hung like the Spring rain on her heart, heavy and dismal.

Levy couldn't put her finger on it, but there was something about him that made her believe him to have gone through the same loneliness she trudged through. There was always a knowing glint that settled deep in his irises and tried to convey some joke she ought to be privy to. What she did know of him was few and far between.

His full name was Pantherlily, an epithet to perfectly match his polite and gentle manner; he was a master swordsman, most trusted of Gajeel's men, and fluent in various languages. Levy counted her blessings on the evening stars that he knew her native tongue with every question she had and every hasty string of assurances he fed to her as they made their way around the encampment. He would only be her and Gajeel's go-between until she learned enough of their language to communicate with the _Kurogane_ on her own.

A sense of foreboding curled like a sleepy serpent deep in her belly, Lily's encouragement was too gracious as even she could tell the language was awkward with her accent. They were the words of warriors, but she spoke them timidly, _painstakingly_ slowly, and the syllables caught between the tip of her tongue and the back of her teeth. Where the muscle was light, easy, and fast with her language, it weighed heavily and lolled sickly with the tribe's language. An infinite amount of worry far more than what should be considered. She didn't expect to be spoken to too much- considering how the _Kurogane_ acted around her.

That aside, it had been coached into her from a young age that she may have to marry for political reasons and that, above all, a wife is seen and not heard. Her mother would have fainted away should she have heard the words the old council fed her child. Lady McGarden would have raised her daughter to be poised, but loud- demanding the destiny Levy so deserved and wanted.

She shook her head of the thoughts and refocused on the quickly expanding spar several feet away from them. It had taken her aback when a woman, clothed in leather trousers like the male warriors and a top of thick hide that protected her, whereas most of men went without shirts. Her hair was long, set in thick a plait that swept to her hips- several beads and threads had been interwoven into her impressive mane. Three things caught Levy's attention all at once; when the young woman turned it was revealed that one side of her head had been shorn nearly all the way to her scalp, her hair was s startling shade of blue similar to Levy's own (if only a little darker), and the warm welcome the _Kurogane_ presented to this woman.

He raised his fist and she grinned, the small metal hoop on her nose glittering happily as she repeated the gesture and bumped their forearms together.

The woman's skin was fair and her eyes were a blue- the shade apparent even from a distance. Levy wondered, skin that glowed so fair even beneath all of the paint and dirt surely belonged to a pure bloodline. Lily hadn't informed her of any other women joining the tribe in a similar fashion, but as the female warrior threw her arm daringly around the Kurogane's broad shoulders and tossed her head back to laugh, she began to think she had been deceived in at least being the only woman to the _Kurogane_. The leader of the tribe regarded the female warrior with an affection obvious in any language and Levy cursed her bull-headed ideas.

The great dragon Atlas had aimed for the sun and lit his wings to wildfire, Levy McGarden proclaimed the chance of a son and paved herself the path of _second wife_.

A sharp prick hit her heart and pride as the rough language of the tribe rolled easily off the woman's tongue with a surprisingly delicate tone. It took all of her effort to school her features and aimlessly prose her curiosity to Lily without raising suspicion. "That female warrior there, what's her name?"

"Juvia, they call her _Ame_."

Levy scrunched her nose and glanced at Lily confusedly. "'Rain'?"

A warm smile tugged at the older man's mouth, nodding with an affection she had started to become accustomed to. "Ah, very good, Lady McGarden."

She quirked her brow and glanced at her companion from the side of her eye. "I imagine there's a great tale behind such a title?"

He nodded solemnly and moved past the unspoken question that hung between them. "She's swift and strong, her movements always quiet and fluid- but loud and raging when she needs to be. And, as you can imagine, some of our people and enemies share a common trait of not being very fond of water."

Levy pressed her hands to her mouth, muffling the hearty laugh that slipped past her defenses. "That's terrible."

"She is his second, in battle that is." He waved a hand before himself and winked. "Elders aren't very useful in the fights of younger, faster men."

She eyed Lily, taking in his form- one that rivaled even Gajeel's. "I highly doubt that."

"Well, in any case, she is just as regarded by him. Gajeel will leave either myself or her in charge when he's required elsewhere and one or the other accompanies him."

"Does he travel much?"

Lily raised his eyebrows and smirked. "If it can be helped, Gajeel stays where he is truly needed, though not many well-bred ladies demand him at her doorstep to offer him a son."

Levy's cheeks pinked at his words and she ducked her head, watching Gajeel and Juvia from under her lashes. "If I had known the _Kurogane_ had…," she paused to consider her words and cautiously worked around the foreign syllable, "-a _wife_. I would not have made such an offer- or a fool of myself."

A warm palm rested on her shoulder, the skin rough from years of fight and work, but no less comforting. "We do not take multiple companions. Our elders said the tribe descended from dragons themselves, taking shelter in the human form as their kind was hunted down for sport and valor." Levy twisted her mouth shyly as Lily's tone had grown darker and he nearly spat the last word out. "In the years since, some dragons gave up their lines and dragon blood to become fully human. It is told that the _Kurogane_ and his family are some of the last to hold onto their ancestry, able to change into their original form at will. Superstitious legend or not, the tribe has respected the laws of dragons for centuries, living in their way as best we can. If you'll forgive the term, we live by the tradition of mates. One and lifelong, Levy.

"Gajeel will respect that whether you come from the stone halls or the heavy skin tents of our tribe." He squeezed her shoulder and winked when she finally met his eye. "As for Juvia, Gajeel's father found her on an expedition. A town had been scourged in the night not far from where the tribe was settled and when they had seen the pillars of smoke the next morning, they went searching."

Guilt wriggled into her belly, happily coiling around the sleepy serpent already content in her middle. Levy bit her lip and whispered, "How terrible. What happened?"

Lily sighed, a tight smile replacing the welcoming one from moments before. "They found Juvia, a little scraped up from where she had freed herself from the remains of her hiding spot, and then buried those that remained. The previous _Kurogane, _Metalicana, and his wife took her in. She and Gajeel were raised as siblings, with an unshakeable bond- as they are like-minded rather than opposing forces like most siblings tend to be." Pantherlily took a long drink from the juice that was common on their tables, carefully regarding her as she watched the tribe continue to wildly interact before he spoke up once more. "Do you know why his hair is so long?"

"N-no." Her lip caught between her teeth as she watched the group, Gajeel included, fight amongst each other. Levy had not given previous thought as to why the males grew their hair, in some cases, longer than the women.

She winced when a boy no older than fourteen had the long braid at his back sliced off and kicked into the dirt.

"It is the right of a warrior to grow his hair out as a symbol of pride and victory, it measures how long they have gone without losing a battle. If they lose, it is cut. Thus the cycle restarts." He gently chuckled at the bewildered light in her eyes as the young boy was pushed back into the cheering crowd. "Do not worry, they would not purposely harm someone so young. It's sort of their way of knocking too much arrogance out of the boys. If they think too much of themselves, they risk not only their lives in battle."

"Hm." Levy allowed her eyes to settle over the gruff man she would be forevermore tied to. "And…Has he ever lost?"

"No." It took all of her might not to return the wide smile the older warrior set upon her.

"Ah." She lifted the chalice set before her, sipping the foreign liquid and biting her tongue past the bitter taste. It would take a very long time for her to become accustomed to this land. Levy turned to her companion, meeting his eye directly. "Will the people of my valley be treated properly?"

Pantherlily did not miss the heavy gaze weighed to him, allowing a smirk to flicker in the corner of his mouth. "They will. We may not look it, but we are loyal and look after our own with a fierceness not lent to many. Your valley will be treated as equals and trusted."

Levy nodded her head, satisfied.

Her eyes once more drifted to the wild scene before her and, for the first time, she caught the eye of the _Kurogane_ straight on.

* * *

Their wedding day was a feral affair with more of his customs than hers.

To be expected, as the ceremony was held in the tribe's territory, but it wasn't like anything she imagined as a child. Rather than charm and excitement and happiness, the event made her restless and she caught herself wishing for Lily to appear so there would be at least one person to talk to. Her husband sat statuesquely next to her, a crouched pillar of raw strength and danger as he took in the festivities with a pleased smirk quirking in the corner of his mouth. He did not try to speak with her, only dropping his eyes to her twice during the ceremony and the reception.

Something she was wholly ungrateful for- along with the lack of tradition in the _Kurogane_ kissing his new bride.

Even still, Levy had hoped so shallow and naïvely- that if they could not love each other, at the very least she and this man could be friends. But it was obvious to her that he held little interest in his new bride no matter what optimistic jewels of a dive Lily gave her, she wasn't strong or rich beyond one's wildest dreams or from a lineage that offered her groom a throne one day or even an ethereal beautiful. All of these truths of her and her people only made her more confused as to why someone so powerful would anchor himself to someone as insignificant as she, even if she could bear him sons.

The silk pillow given to her as a place to sit felt like ice against her quivering shins.

These were not her people.

Not the ones she knew by name. Their language was not smooth and melodic, their dress was not proper, and she feared them, she realized. As they drank and cried with celebration and shoved each other around in jest. She felt like the crowd was pressing in- closer and closer to the platform she and the _Kurogane_ occupied, unsatisfied until they were all pressed together. Her next breath left her in a whoosh of slight panic, her jerky movement catching not only the eyes of Pantherlily, but the stoic, bloody irises of her betrothed.

The celebration was still loud and alive when the moon rose low in the sky and Gajeel took her hand. His skin was coarse and unyielding to her own softer palm, the touch did not transcend or melt like she read of great lovers in her books. There was no instantaneous bond that reassured her or told her she had just been wrong. A warrior such as him was stronger than any stone wall or iron shield, of course anything he did would be far from gentle or caring. _Stranger_ was branded into her palm.

He silently lead her to his horse, placing her on its wide back and letting what she could only determine to be a grunt of disapproval as she shook in his hold. Gajeel didn't try to speak with her or give her any token of comfort, he dropped his stark gaze in a sidelong look that left her feeling petulant. They left amongst the raucous chorus of chants she did not understand, but with the rough accents and gestures, she did not need to know their tongue to judge what the sentiments might be. The reality slammed into her and took with it what even breaths she had managed to draw, shaking and bending her spine. All the strength she thought she had, stolen in seconds and leaving behind the painful prick of tears.

As he raised the reins of his horse, a thickly corded arm pressed against her waist on both sides- keeping her from slipping, but caging her in all the same.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lily nod; to her, to him, to the horse maybe, she wasn't sure. Her world lodged in her throat for the seriousness of his expression- Lily couldn't assure as to what may or may not happen next. She was indebted to him, he had spent a lot of his time calming her and telling her how to act around his people when he could have been enjoying himself amongst them. Levy owed it to him to not mess up, to not anger their fierce leader.

They arrived at a tent glowing with golden light from the inside. It felt like a cage rather than a comfort.

Gajeel slid from the strong back of his horse, who merely tittered at his owner, and placed his wide hands over her waist, plucking her right off the horse's back. She tried not to think about how his hands completely covered the expanse of her ribcage as he left her at the side of the horse to enter the tent. Levy blinked back her tears and gazed up at the sky, silently watching as the clouds curled overhead. The animal snorted, stamping one foot to get her attention. She warily eyed the creature before setting her palm against his long nose- the horse acted as if he had gone too long without proper acknowledgment.

For the first time in months, a shy and relieved smile crawled to the corner of her mouth. Levy playfully puffed air on the horse's nose, causing the stallion to jerk its head in disgruntlement. The horse nipped at the wild ends of her hair before nuzzling the end of his snout into her hand.

A silence lapsed between them as the creature nuzzled the grass in search of something to eat. It was almost too much, for the first time what seemed like _days_, she could hear herself think and breathe without heavy drum beats or a foreign language hollered over her head. For the first time, she noticed the waves.

How they crashed mercilessly against the rocks, angry growls that slithered over the bare skin of her arms in the passing breeze.

Her heart leapt into her throat as a large hand clasped around her wrist and drew her hand from the horse's soft hide, Levy trained her eyes to the ground as the dragon lead her to his temporary lair. The room was wide, betraying and tricking her mind with promises of comfort in the blankets and pillows of earthy tones. It was nothing like the ivory stone and cold floors of her old home. Gajeel released her wrist from his hold, still not looking at her or saying anything. Levy watched as he kept his back to her, unlacing his leather armbands and tossing them to a table. The strong and tanned arms were scarred and pierced, forearms of a warlord.

Levy gulped, her throat constricting uncomfortably with the action. She willed her head to stay up, she was a lady and while her fate was no longer her own, it did not mean she would continue without a little say.

The metal bracelets placed over her upper arms slid away smoothly, the soft tinkling they made once nearly imperceptible over the crackling of the fire in the middle of the tent.. Her eyes trailed once more to her new husband. He paid her no mind, only grumbling as he took on the task of washing the lines of red paint away from his broad shoulders. The wide muscles of his back shadowed menacingly from the lights cast from flames. The struggle he kept up to reach over to his back almost served to make her laugh, such a serious and reserved man attempting to reach his shoulder blades with a tiny cloth was not something she had planned to see. Gajeel cursed and glowered at her from over his shoulder, making Levy instantly freeze in her spot, not daring to relax when the man before her started to speak.

She stayed her wide eyes on him and breathed unevenly- he growled in turn, huffing in irritation and closing the distance between them. Gajeel jerked her hand up with one of his and pressed the red smeared fabric into the palm of her hand. She could only blink owlishly as he began to speak again, drawing her eyebrows together and nervously stuttering.

"I-I don't understand. Just- Please stop, I d-don't understand."

The large man muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes and leading her to a backless chair he sat heavily on. He jerked her hand once more, splaying her hand and the cloth over his shoulder and ticking his head.

A whoosh of breath left her, one she hadn't been aware she'd been holding. "O-Oh. I- uh."

He didn't say anything more, stoically leaning forward and moving his long braid out of the way for her to clean the paint away. Levy did as she was instructed, only stepping away to retrieve the bowl of water after the cloth became too sullied to clean his skin further. She felt self-conscious as her hands rolled across the muscles of his back, he did not jump or shake with her touch as she had with his.

Of course he would not be nervous or scared of her, one of his legs weighed more than she did and he, undoubtedly, had not been a stranger to having a female occupy his living space. Lily had told her otherwise, but he was a leader and she would have been even more a fool to let the looks other females shot him go unnoticed.

The unbidden thought sent a chill through her, jolting her hand and dropping the cloth.

Would she be expected to allow her husband to wander? Letting him bring in however many women, however often, to their tent?

It soured her stomach to think she would not be given at least one courtesy. What kind of a lady would her parents think her now? The wife of a lord whom did as he pleased and held so little respect for his lady as to not even hide his endeavors?

Gajeel took the cloth and bowl from her, stealing her from her thoughts as he set the objects back to their place on a table. Without so much as a warning grunt or pointed look, he continued to take off the heavy belts tied at his waist for the ceremony.

Numbly, Levy noted the stray water droplets that rolled down in rivulets over his back.

She rubbed the thin sleeve of her gown and steeled herself, pulling it down and following it with the other. The misery pressing at her clenched teeth fought its way out in a small sound and served to alert the man before her. He whirled around in his spot and frowned as the dress began to dip in her seizing hands. Gajeel was before her in two wide strides, setting her sleeves back in place and catching her chin between two calloused fingers to make her look at him.

"No." His eyes narrowed at her, allowing his fingers to fall and drum gently against the skin just under her collarbone, near her heart. "Fear."

* * *

**A/N: **I've gotten a lot of questions about what's going to happen, what's going to be included, etc. So, here's a little run down to hopefully cover the wide scope of questions I got.

You do not have to follow the show or have read the books to understand this story. Especially since this chapter is probably the one that's going to be closest to what happens in the show. The story is merely _inspired_ by the characters of Daenerys and Khal Drogo and will eventually have a plot all its own. This story is expressly just for Levy and Gajeel. While several characters will come into play in future characters, there won't be subplots or intertwining stories. As cool as it'd be to write that kind of thing, I don't have the experience or the time to attempt that kind of epic. lol

Updates will be slow in coming, as I'm putting my all into giving my best here and taking my time to ensure that I do.

If you have any further questions/concerns (this does not mean details/spoilers for who is going to show up or what's going to happen), feel free to contact me on tumblr, my username is pansariri.

As always, thank you for the kind and words and support.


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